Don't Let it Fade
by DarkShine07
Summary: Alistair feels an unexpected attachment forming for his leader but in his adorable awkwardness decides not to act upon it. After some advice from Zevran, he manages to stumble upon an enticing scenario that not even he can ignore. [Oneshot][AlistairxCousland]


_**Don't Let it Fade**_

The campfire twinkled in and out of focus beneath the star-studded night sky looming overhead, a faint smoke trail trickling upward and tickling Alistair's nose as he sat perched upon his usual stump nearby. He often spent his evenings like this, nestled beside the firelight rather than cooped up inside his tent and out of view from the rest of the motley group that had become his surrogate family, even if some of them were warmer than others. It wasn't so much because it was warmer, or even that he enjoyed peering up the seemingly endless inkiness up in the sky, dotted by flickering lights that entranced his imagination and took him away from the world plagued by evil and darkspawn alike. Rather, he simply knew it was the most likely place to afford him a chance to look upon his leader without her having to put on a brave face, to act like the wizened, tactical strategist she had had to become so soon so quickly. She commanded his respect simply by stepping forward when he had been too intimidated to do so himself – he never wanted to be a leader anyways. But, lately something seemed to be shifting within him, like perhaps he felt something more than unadorned respect for her. It seemed more and more so especially whenever he caught himself gazing at her even when she wasn't issuing orders or relaying plans for the day's travels. He just couldn't tear his gaze away in certain moments, and sometimes he got all caught up with his words when he tried to talk to her. He would fumble and stutter, make an absolute fool of himself and leave everyone else staring at him either pitifully, confusedly, or in the case of Morrigan, amusedly.

Something was definitely stirring, but he didn't know how to address it, or even really what to call it. He probably would have come to the correct conclusion eventually, but he got there a lot faster the night Zevran plopped down beside him with a grin etched upon his face and a pint of ale in hand. He shoved one into Alistair's grasp as he settled and let out a satisfied sigh as he looked at that night's fire. Alistair took a moment to look at him a bit wondrously, not used to having his private company that often at all, but accepted the drink even if somewhat hesitantly.

"Nice evening." He said conversationally, unsure of what else to say.

"Oh, indeed! Sultry and humid, perfect night for sweat and sighs." Zevran commented enthusiastically.

It was comments such as those that usually kept Alistair away from the former assassin rogue who had recently joined their party. He always said things that he found quite honestly, creepy. Or nonsense, one or the other. "Ah…right." Was all he managed in response.

Zevran looked over with his cheeky grin, "Of course you my friend have never felt such a night's touch before, I am sure."

"What do you even mean?" Alistair frowned, looking at his mug with an eyebrow somewhat raised.

"Why, the heat and passion of love-making of course. It is a perfect night for such romance." Zevran exclaimed.

"Oh." Alistair should have guessed that was what the elf was hinting at, he almost always worked his way to that conclusion no matter what the conversation was originally about. "You're not propositioning me, I hope."

"Haha!" He laughed heartily, "Oh no, my friend. To put it quite simply, you are not my type."

"I'm heartbroken." Alistair muttered, thinking that at least one of them was amused. He would rather it have been him, but alas.

"No doubt," Zevran continued humorously, but he turned his gaze away, looking off in another direction than Alistair didn't bother to follow. "I have my eyes on a different pair of lips tonight."

That got Alistair's attention though, and then he did glance at the elf's face and then trace his gaze. He was looking at the tents all right, but the one he seemed to be focusing on was none other than Gwyn's. Alistair double-checked, looking again at Zevran and then at his point of focus, and then simply letting his head drop into his hands, sighing out loud. Of course the elf would like her. He liked every woman he came across, no matter what she looked like. She could be a pole for all the hormone-driven elf cared, or at least that was Alistair's perception of him in this moment. He wasn't so much as frustrated that the elf was attracted to her, he couldn't think of any reason why any man wouldn't be truthfully; but he knew he didn't stand a chance against him. The elf had real, up close experience with women. He boasted about it enough, anyways. He supposedly knew all kinds of things to make them tick, or whatever it was he called it. Alistair had…minimal to no practice with these kinds of things. He could barely get out a few flirtatious words let alone anything more serious when it came to expressing his feelings toward their leader. He might as well give up now and be done with it.

Zevran turned and noticed his companion's slump then, and patted him on the back. "You tried, as we all saw very well and clear."

Alistair squinted his eyes shut, embarrassed beyond words could describe. The elf really didn't have to go there, but he would not close his sodding mouth.

"We all deserve our fair shot, no? I think even the cloistered sister over there is pining away."

"What?" Alistair looked up, confused yet again. Was the elf talking about Leliana? But…she was a girl. Oh. OH. Well, he hadn't seen that one coming, he thought. Great, all he needed now was for Morrigan and Oghren to work together and concoct some magicked brew of dwarven ale to make Gwyn fall head over heels for one of them as well. The whole party could take a shot, he didn't stand a chance against any of them.

"You can hardly blame her. Our fine leader is quite the beauty, and not only easy on the eyes but fair-hearted and quick-minded. It's not a combination easily overlooked."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Alistair grumbled, sulking with his head still in his hands, now looking forlornly at the fire.

"No one had to tell me at all!" Zevran laughed.

Alistair sat up and frowned. No one had told him either, not really. He had just noticed it and not been able to stop noticing it until he had begun admiring it. Now, frankly, he felt that he was obsessing over it. Unhealthily so. "I think I'm just going to go." He finally said, needing to get away from everyone now that he was imagining them all staying up at night to formulate plans and ways to seduce Gwyn.

"All right, then."

Alistair stood and walked several paces away, deciding he would just have to stick it out alone in his tent the rest of the night rather than spend it beneath the stars like he usually did. He sighed and made his way there, letting the flap fall down behind him as he reached his shabby little space. He took off all his armor and slipped into smallclothes, ready for bed with a heavy heart and whirling mind when he heard some shuffling outside. He cautiously moved to his tent's entrance and pulled back the flap just slightly enough for him to peer without. He saw several of his friends following suit and retiring to their own tents for the night; he saw the mabari hound curling up in a furry ball to go to sleep as well. He caught sight of Zevran then, saw him headed directly for Gwyn's tent, and furrowed his brows together, a knot forming in his stomach. The elf ducked inside and there was silence for a good few minutes. He hadn't known his companion had meant he would be attempting something this very night; he wished he might have said something, or…or poisoned his ale or just something! Of course Zevran would have know there was poison in it, being an assassin and all, but what did it matter now. He was almost ready to let the flap fall down and resign himself to bitterness for eternity when he saw the tent's materials ripple and then a figure reemerge from within. Zevran was exiting and returning to his rightful place it seemed, and a non-too pleased look was scowling from his visage. Alistair's lips parted slightly and he felt his breaths coming in more quickly as he tried to put the pieces together. Had she rejected him completely? It appeared that way…if she did not want the charming elf, though, perhaps her tastes lay in other…places. His mind briefly considered Leliana and Morrigan once again, but he pushed them aside. He felt hopeful again and went to sleep happier than he had planned on previously.

It was several weeks and many failed attempts at flirting later when Alistair found himself alone with Zevran once again. The elf was back to his usual self after a week or so of pouting and walking about with a kicked-puppy look about him, and Alistair was somewhat glad of it. He'd begun to be depressing to be around during those days, but now he was his wily self again, prodding and spouting little jokes every so often. Alistair actually was enjoying his company this night as they sat in their little spots beside the fire and drank a pint or two. Alistair had begun asking about the elf's past, getting him to tell stories and the like from his youth, and found the elf wasn't half so bad after all. It might have had a lot to do with the fact that he no longer thought he had to compete with him too, but he brushed that aside.

"But she was utterly gorgeous, so in the end I made sure she died happy." Zevran finished up another one of his tales, taking a swig of his drink as he did so.

"Died happy? I take it that means you did what you usually did?" Alistair asked, allowing a small grin to break out over his face.

"Of course!" The elf smiled as well and they laughed.

There were a few moments of companionable silence between them before Alistair dared to broach the question that had been on his mind all night, really ever since that night several weeks ago. He was dying to know.

"Did you…have better luck than I with our friend?" He ventured cautiously.

Zevran sighed then, and looked down, "I am afraid not. She seemed genuinely surprised to see me at all, truth be told."

"Really?" Alistair was trying not to seem too interested, lest he become the source of amusement once again.

"Yes, yes. I am not used to being turned down, though. My only logical explanation for it is that she must already be set on someone else." Zevran looked up again and shrugged, "Oh well, my friend. You can't win them all!" And just like that he was cheery again.

Alistair blinked, wondering just who the elf was thinking of, and not daring to think it might be him. But what if it was…Nah. He had more than botched it up already. There was really not much else he could do, or at least nothing he could think of.

"You know, Alistair," Zevran began, his voice sounding intrigued suddenly, enough so for Alistair lose his train of thought and look over interestedly, "I could give you a few pointers on what to say to her. I know you're trying, Maker knows you're trying, but ah…you lack technique."

He fought not to blush, "I, uh…yes, well…hmm."

Zevran grinned, but obviously tried not to laugh aloud. "Normally, I would advise charming and witty banter, but for you…you might be more compelling to just say what is on your mind."

"I…what?"

"Just be yourself, stop trying to overdo it or dole out the charm. It is a gift, and if you do not possess it…it really just shouldn't be attempted." The elf said matter-of-factly. "Trust me, Alistair. You do not have it."

Alistair glared at him, "Not helping."

"Compliment her, give her flowers, or just tell her you think about her all the time. She seems to be the girl to like that sort of thing, I take it." Zevran added with an amused smirk upon his lips at Alistair's indignance.

"Well…I have been keeping this…this rose I picked up a while ago-"

"Ah yes! A token of affection for the lady. Try giving it to her." Zevran agreed.

"But, but…but what should I say? Just waltz up and be like, 'oh by the way, I have been playing with this flower for a few days and it's kind of…pink…and so are you….so….here you go.'" Alistair fumbled, shaking his head frustratedly.

"Oh yes, she's pink. She'll be swooning into your arms with that line, my friend." Zevran chuckled.

"I don't know! I can't just tell her that it reminds me of her because it's so delicate and frail but yet it still grows taller and more beautiful every day even though the blight is going on all around it, tearing the world apart." Alistair was shaking his head still, sure he'd never figure this out proper. Zevran was silent beside him, longer than he was used to. He looked over and saw his friend sitting with a thoughtful expression upon his face. "What?"

Zevran smiled, "Say that. Just like that."

Alistair blinked, "The delicate beautiful blight thing? But that was just…silly, it's just a flower."

"No no, that was sincere and from your heart. You truly have no sense of which things to keep to yourself and which to share, do you?"

"I…guess not. Basically, you're saying if I don't think it sounds good, to say it then?"

Zevran scrunched his face together, "Eh, it does not sound so good when you put it like that, but essentially, yes. Say things exactly how you feel them and you'll do well enough."

Alistair still wasn't sure about it, but he supposed it was worth a shot. It was something he hadn't tried yet, anyways. He and the elf talked a while longer that night, until the fire embers died down and the other had all gone to sleep for the night. The two finally stood and parted ways, but for some reason Alistair did not really feel like retiring just yet. He was left out alone in the cold night after that, but he took it upon himself to go on a walk through the surrounding forest. It wasn't the brightest thing he'd ever done, but he didn't sense any darkspawn nearby so he figured it was worth the risk. He needed to process everything the elf had shared with him, think about his approach and…well, really he just wanted to plan how to give Gwyn the damned rose. He could wait a few days, prepare a whole speech and recite it to her, but he was afraid the rose would wither away before long. It had lived longer than he'd expected it to already, but how long could a flower without water or sunlight survive? He should just…tell her. Just walk right into her tent and tell her, he began to think after he had gone a mile or so out and begun to head back towards camp. There was no time like the present, really. And he hadn't felt this confident that it was the right move to make in a while. He might make an utter fool of himself, more so than he already had before, but maybe if he just got his feelings off his chest once and for all, he might be able to actually sleep at night.

He had made up his mind when the party camp came back into view. He took his sweet time as he moved closer and closer to her tent, his nerves beginning to build up intensely. But he needed to do this, felt that he had to say something other than trivial comments in order to feel like he really tried for this. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes momentarily and bracing himself for anything, the worst or the best, and took the plunge. He barged into her tent as fast as he could so he wouldn't be able to back out and skulk away like a dog with its tail between its legs. He opened his eyes and lips at the same time, getting ready to say her name to wake her, but nothing happened. Instead he froze and stood there, gawking at what he was ultimately not prepared to see at all.

Gwyn was completely unclothed, body spread out upon her pallet with her head thrust backwards and lips parted as the softest, faintest sounds emitted from deep down in her throat somewhere. Her skin was a silvery smooth sheen in the darkness of the tent, illuminated by only the moonlight that crept in from the night beyond the small, enclosed area. Her blonde hair was draped about her shoulder, gleaming prettily, and dim clouds of breath rose up from her rosy lips into the night air above. Her long legs were bent at the knees, one slightly shifted further up than the other, her feet resting upon the pallet with clenched toes. One hand was draped about her head elegantly, fingers slowly flexing, and the other was buried somewhere between her nether regions, drawing Alistair's gaze there ultimately. He took note of it all in only the couple of fleeting seconds it took for her to realize someone else had entered her private space and open her eyes.

She quickly pulled her body together in a ball, sitting up and desperately yanking her covers over her, a gasp escaping her still reddened lips. Those green eyes were now trained on him, a horrified sheen obviously etched upon them as she stared at him with a more embarrassed expression than even he thought was possible. He felt awful then, and stupid. Of course he should have called before he just waltzed right in. This was going to be juicy gossip for sure, was the next thought that came to mind, and just as quickly was dismissed. "I…I am so sorry. So, so sorry, seriously, I…sorry, just…so sorry…" He began fumbling for words, blinking and closing his eyes and turning around all at once.

"Alistair!" She finally interjected, "It's…it's okay." He heard her soft voice say shakily.

"No no, I'm such an idiot. I just barged in and….Maker, I'm sorry."

He heard the rush of air and hesitantly glanced over his shoulder to see that she had stood up, the blankets wrapped around her thin figure. He still didn't have the nerve to face her though, and chose to remain still for fear of simply falling over should he dare move a muscle.

"You can stop apologizing, it was an honest mistake." She voiced once more.

He wanted to shake his head and protest.

"What is that?"

"Huh?" He did turn his head over his shoulder to see her pointing shyly towards his hand. He looked down and saw the blighted rose there, amazed he hadn't somehow dropped it in his shock. "Oh…I…"

He felt her take it from his hand, her fingers cold and smooth, and relinquished it uncertainly. "What are you doing with this?" He almost heard the smile in her voice then.

Cautiously, he dared to turn somewhat around, enough to see her face more clearly. "I found it, a while ago. I…wanted to give it to you. It's just a rose."

A small smile appeared upon her lips, and his heart fluttered momentarily. That was a better reaction than he was used to getting thus far. "For me?" she asked quietly.

"It…reminded me of you." And he repeated what he had said earlier, though for whatever reason it came much more eloquently this time, different than what he had been thinking in his head, yet it must have been sweeter all the same. Her eyes twinkled and when he was done she looked up at him from the rose with a delightful expression that made his heart melt.

"You…like it?" He ventured.

"It's the most thoughtful gift I've ever been given." She replied. He was silent a moment longer and then she added, "I love it. Thank you."

He smiled awkwardly in response, his cheeks reddening not only due to her acceptance but to the fact she was still standing there with nothing but a blanket draped about her right in front of him. He wanted to tell her she was welcome, that he was so relieved she was pleased, all sorts of things, but words just wouldn't come. He couldn't pull his eyes from her own, and only just registered that she had crept closer and was gazing at him tenderly, somewhat expectantly. "Oh…" He reacted aloud, not meaning too. She smiled again, shyly blinking in turn. She looked up into his brown eyes and her gaze darted down to his lips, and he knew he had to do it then or never. He leaned down and went for it, pulled her closer to him and finding her lips with his own, clumsily, but surely. She was soft and supple, the taste of honey upon her tongue, and a tang of sweat that had not been washed off from the day's exertions. He felt her hands wrap around his neck, one playing with his hair tenderly, and closed his eyes in appreciation. Her touch awakened something in him he had never felt, never could have dreamed of, trailing fire and blazing light in her wake. He needed to feel her breath rush out upon his neck when she broke away, panting, longed for it again. He had never known a desire so tangible, so right there, just in front of him, wanting him back.

Her eyes peered up at him, pupils big and full in the darkness, and he felt like he could gaze into them all night if he wasn't so desperately in need of feeling her touch. She retracted her hands though, and moved them towards her shoulders, pushing away the corners of the blankets so that they began to droop slowly. He maintained his gaze at her eyes as long as he could, but when he heard the rustle of the materials falling to the floor, he could not help but look down and feel his breath swept away. He had only stolen a brief glimpse before, but now he was taking in her perfect body, toned and small, limber and curved for real. She was simply enchanting. "Maker…" He breathed, and felt a tightening reaction deep within his loins. He simply could not come to terms with the idea that she was here before him, offering herself to him she could have had literally anyone else. He felt overcome with relief, joy, lust, and several other emotions he didn't have time to place before he gripped her shoulders and pulled her in for another kiss, this time more passionate than he would not have known he was capable of before this night. Everything felt urgent and needed, passion laced beneath every move, every touch, with a comingled sense of ardor and wonder. She was intoxicating beyond belief, and he was the luckiest man in all of Thedas, Blight be damned

She helped him out of the ridiculously amount of armor he lugged around all day, haphazardly scooting the noisy pieces away as they barely broke apart between kisses to do so, too lost within each other's touch to care if anyone else heard the clatter. Alistair was nervous, but not like he had been earlier. He didn't know exactly what to do when it came down to her body beneath his own, but she was slow and gentle, smiling when he pulled away and began to look away in regret at not knowing how to give her exactly what he wanted to. He felt her hand at his cheek, turning it back towards her tender face to see her smiling encouragingly. She pulled him toward her, kissing his neck and whispering sweet nothings in his ear. She was so perfect in every way, he found himself thinking for the hundredth time. Her hands were sliding along his muscled back when he felt her rise beneath him, gripping him with her thighs and then swiftly pulling him downward and rolling over. He laughed quietly when he realized she had reversed their positions, now sitting over him as he lay in her former spot. "My leader." He said with a smile, earning him another kiss as her amused response.

She shifted her weight atop him and eventually positioned herself so that she could take him inside her, causing his eyes to jolt open and his lips to involuntarily part of their own accord at the new sensation. His hands fell to his sides and would have gripped the blankets fiercely if Gwyn had not lowered and found them with her own, holding him affectionately. She rocked slowly astride him as he slowly got used to the exquisite feeling of her all around him in ways he could not have imagined. She was so soft, wet, embracing him in every manner possible. He tried to get a feel for the unhurried rhythm she was building up, warily tilting his hips upward to accentuate her movements, and heard her elicit a soft moan in response as he felt himself flow deeper within her core. He tried several more times and felt her grip on his hands lessen, until eventually he gathered the confidence to sit up, reaching for her neck with one hand so that he cradled her head when she tilted it backwards. Her lovely neck was exposed for him to descend upon as he continued, pleasure building up from below. She just so beautiful, and the realization that she was feeling the same sensations as he was, because of him, was empowering and endearing. She had chosen him. He smiled as she softly whimpered, and felt her slow as her body crashed upon his sculpted stomach, her breasts pressing against his chest pleasantly, and he instinctively wrapped his free hand around her back and held her to him tight.

He stilled and kissed her again wanting to burry his hands in her hair and forget time and reality for as long as possible. He felt like he belonged there, buried inside her and wrapped around her with her frame and her breath brushing against him so that they were one. She kissed him fervently, and he could feel that she wanted him, wanted more. He grinned and pulled the same move she had earlier, using his strength as an advantage to take her in his arms and easily lift her so he could maneuver over her once again. She fell prettily against the pallet, her hair bouncing all around her shoulders once more and she tore her lips away from his to gasp when he resumed easing into her from this new position. Her hands dug into his back, and perhaps instinct or love or something else entirely took over, but he felt that he knew exactly what to do then, and stopped thinking about it. Her nails cut into his skin, but it only urged him on, her legs tightening around his waist as he spend up, setting loose his lips upon her sensitive neckline to elicit slightly louder simpering from her elated visage. Something passed over her that sent her limbs writhing beneath him, her legs gripping his hips much more firmly than before, and her insides coiling up around him; it was more than enough to send him over the edge after only a few moments longer, and then he found an ecstasy he knew only she would ever give him from then on out.

They lay there until dawn, wrapped together with arms draped around the other in a silent bliss that only lovers shared. The pale morning light would soon be filtering within the tent and the day would await, no doubt. They would have to sit up and get dressed, perhaps even dress each other for the first time. He would gaze at her lovingly as his Gwyn smiled back at him before stepping out and resuming her role, a serious tone returning to her voice and expression that he had wiped clean the night before. But until then, she was his, vulnerable and light-hearted, bare to him and he to her. He kissed her forehead every once in while, needing to touch her just to ensure yet again she was real and not a dream. She nuzzled her head beneath his chin, breathing warmly into his neck. He felt so peaceful and serene, like the world really had stopped and would allow them a while longer to just lay there.

Dutiful as she was, his Gwyn eventually got up with the dawn and let go of his hand, though she cast a smile his way as she did so. He sat up and helped her prepare, moving slowly and silently so as not to break the spell that shimmered between them, invisible to the eye but tickling the skin softly. When she was finished, she leaned down and kissed him good morning chaste and sweet, and then she headed outside into the daylight knowing he would follow her in his own time. He sighed as he stared after her, and could not wipe the smile from his face. He got ready a few minutes later and took a deep breath just before he reached for the tent flap. He paused then, looking down as something caught his eye. The rose had been dropped there in the threshold where he had taken her into his arms the night before, forgotten in the passion that followed. He leaned down and picked it up, holding it to his nose briefly. Its sweet perfume lingered even still, and he smiled to himself. The little rose would never fade away, it seemed.

**A/N: I can't express how difficult it is to write Alistair for me. He's so sweet and awkward and just not at all the typical guy I usually write. But this was something I really wanted to try ever since I got the idea for it in my head a few nights ago, and I went for it mainly because it feels nice to actually wanted to write after such a trying semester at school. Plus, I love Alistair. He's a precious little sweetheart. Forgive me for the typos, I'm sure they're there. It's 5 am now and I'm too tired to proof. Just take this for what it is and enjoy it. I sure did. **


End file.
